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The drop was something I’d done a dozen times, but never with a stash this big. I slung the sports bag over my shoulder and climbed up the stairs from the train station at Dalmarnock, in Glasgow’s notorious East End. The clock at the station entrance read 6:25 PM.
Across the road, in the shadow of a twenty-story high rise, was an overgrown football field and kids play park. I crossed the road between the slow-moving traffic, daydreaming about my future. Tammy said this job would clear my debts with him, something I never expected to do in a million years. I vowed to give up booze and gambling tomorrow and make a clean break.
In the damp darkness of a mid-winters’ night the park was lit only by a single underpowered streetlamp which cast a dull orange glow. Following Tammy’s instructions, I sat on the bench near the streetlamp and waited. Broken glass covered the park floor like sand on a beach and every swing was swung up round the top bar. I watched a group of kids kicking a glass bottle, and a stoner leaning on the metal fence smoking a joint.
The stoner put his head to the side, as if sniffing his collar. His walkie talkie caught the orange light from the streetlamp. On the main road, blue lights of a police car lit up the football pitch and I knew it was a setup.
I ditched the sports bag and ran towards the high-rise.
The stoner left his post and charged after me.
I glanced behind to see the glass-football-playing kids blocking his way.
“You runnin’ off somewhere, Mister?” they asked, giving me a head start.
Round the back of the high-rise, the door to the communal bin store was ajar. I scrambled inside and pulled the door closed. The stench of rotten meat made me gag. The floor was an inch deep with sludgy brown water and piles of black bags overflowed the steel bins. I balled my fist up inside my sleeve and punched out the solitary light.
I scrambled over rancid burst bags to the very back corner, with my hands and arms covered in putrid waste. I vomited, and instinctively wiped my face with a sludge-covered hand. I spat out furiously. Then hunkered down to wait.
All I could think of was Tammy, who would hear quickly what had happened. His last words to me echoed like a drum beat in a tunnel. An hour later, he called my mobile, and I didn’t answer. He called back every minute for the next twenty minutes.
I had to face the music, so I made a phone call. But I didn’t call Tammy.
“Saint, you’ve got to help me,” I croaked into the phone, my throat raw from vomiting and having nothing to drink.
“It’s been a while.” My brother’s voice was calm and professional.
“I need your help.” My voice trembled. “I’m a dead man.”
“Tell me.”
“You remember Tammy Hall?”
“The teenage gang leader?”
“Yeah, but he’s not a teenager any more. He owns most of his patch now. I’ve worked for him for years, running errands and drugs. You know, to pay off gambling debts.”
After I finished, Peter said, “So why the panicked call to me?”
“I had a drop of Class A to do for him. But I was set up or something. The coppers were there.”
“Did you get caught?”
“Naw. I ran, but I dumped the stash. He’s calling me every minute.” I told him what happened to Wee Rab. “He’ll kill me!”
My brother laughed maniacally. “Oh dear, dear, dear. You’re deep in the shit, little brother! You lost your nerve, like the weakling you are.”
A rage boiled inside me and I felt my face reddening with anger and hatred. “Even at my lowest point, you’re still twisting the knife. You’re just like our father.”
“I’m much worse than our father. Unlike you, I didn’t inherit his opportunity-limiting dependence on alcohol.” He paused while I had a coughing fit as a fruit fly buzzed into the back of my throat. “Look, little brother, this is your lucky night. I’ll be your knight in shining armour and save your sorry arse.”
“On what condition?” Peter never missed an opportunity to put people into his debt.
“I’m working on a deal at work and I need someone like you to do a job for me in a couple of months.”
“What’s the job?”
“You don’t need to know that. Do you want my help? Yes or no.”
“I don’t have a choice, do I?” I spat back.
He burst out laughing. “You could always take your chances with Tammy. I wonder where he’ll hit you with a monkey wrench. I bet your elbow would make a satisfying crunch!”
I winced at the thought. “Fine. I accept your oh-so-generous offer.”
“Here’s what we’ll do. Stay where you are. I’ll send one of my drivers up to get you tonight. The first thing we’ll do is sort out your weakness for alcohol. Addictions make people feeble and unreliable. Then, when you’re clean, you’ll work for me until I give you this job to do.”
I gave him details of where to find me. A few hours later, a driver picked me up, and we drove straight to a residential detox clinic outside Liverpool.